


Unite and take a stand

by Valpur



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragon Age Inquisition AU, M/M, Many other characters make cameos, Undefined Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), mage!Genji, scout!Hanzo, scout!McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpur/pseuds/Valpur
Summary: Some names stand out in the Inquisition's tales, but there are many other common people fighting in the backlines and striving to give Thedas its peace.Hanzo joins the Inquisition looking for redemption.McCree to escape trouble, and is determined to make the most out of this experience.





	Unite and take a stand

**Author's Note:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, the Dragon Age Inquisition no one was asking for! Well, maybe someone did ask for it - in a Very Subtle Way.  
> Thank you @
> 
>  
> 
> [@guesswhatruru](http://guesswhatruru.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> for the AMAZING fanart you see up here! <3
> 
> This Inquisitor (who may or may not be my own Trevelyan :3) is very much in a relationship with Cullen. Blame Jim for this, I wanted him in.
> 
> Maker I miss Inquisition.
> 
> (The title is from All as One by Miracle of Sound bc I can't title)

“ _The world is changing once again, Hanzo, and it’s time to pick a side_ ”.

His brother’s words rang in his ears as he climbed the steep path winding into the woods. His feet made no sound on the snow-covered ground, knee-deep in the frozen white coat; Hanzo stopped and blinked in the bright sunlight, his eyes the only part left uncovered by the scarf he’d wrapped around his mouth and nose. Still, he was icy cold.

The world was something more than _changing_ , he thought turning around and sparing a hard look at the green vortex scarring the sky, where Haven and its temple of the Sacred Ashes used to stand. Now of the town all was left was a pile of rubble covered in months of snow.

He hadn’t been there at the time of the Conclave – and why should he have been? He was a mercenary, a nice term to define his condition of renegade, and had no business with Mages and Templars.  
Not anymore, at least.

Hanzo’s breath drew white clouds of steam in front of his face, and with a shrug he went back to his walk.

The pines were slowly thinning as he approached the top of the mountain, and his legs ached with every step. He’d been on the road for more than a week now, replenishing his stocks with the rare animals still awake in the winter’s woods and waking every morning with his head rowded with doubts and regrets. And yet every morning he’d stood up, cursing the cold and the slope, and persisted.

A month had passed since he’d met Genji in Redcliffe, and almost ten years since Kirkwall’s devastation and their own feud. Time had been kind on his brother: the lines marking his face were not caused by age, and Hanzo had stopped in shock in seeing the scars he’d caused on the only family member he’d ever cared about.

But Genji’s smile hadn’t changed. Shock and rage and denial, in the end, had loosened their grip on Hanzo and he’d managed to listen to his brother’s words. They spoke of longing and forgiveness, of chances to atone.

Of the Inquisition.

“We were stranded and in danger, brother, but now it’s different. The Inquisitor is different – she helped us and now we’re at her service, as is Grand Enchantress Fiona. I want to do my part to save Thedas, and the Inquisition is the only force that can stop the Elder One”.

The Elder One. The great enemy lurking between the worlds. Corypheus.

He stopped and realized he’d left the forest behind. Only sharp rocks and the blinding expanse of the blue sky stood in front of him.

He hadn’t meant to come. What good could do an institution that recruited rebel mages like Genji or, even worse, rogues like him? And yet the danger was real, the sky was torn apart and demons roamed the land. He’d fought those creatures of fire and darkness, and had needed all of his warrior skills to make it out alive.  
He rolled his shoulders and the strap of his quiver scratched his collarbone through the layers of wool and furs he was wearing.

And if the Breach was not simply a tale, than maybe Genji was right. It was time to take part to that war, and maybe find a way to make amends for his past mistakes.

Hanzo surpassed a jutting boulder, following the path as it sharply turned left, and as he emerged on the ridge facing a wide valley he saw it.

The sight made his weariness fade to make room for surprise.

He slowly rose a hand and pulled the scarf down, letting out a breath full of awe and reverence.

Skyhold. Towers pointing to the sky, a promise of defence and a challenge to the Breach itself, the walls of a fortress and the banners smacking in the wind – his chance.

His choice.

He stood so long marveling at the castle, the grandest building he’d ever seen, that his nose started to tingle from the cold, as the tip of his ears. Was he ready to face his sins and try to make things better? No, he would never be. But at the same time was he going to shrink away from a challenge? Again, the answer was his most stubborn _no_. He huffed and shrugged, adjusting the bow slung across his chest, and marched on.

He had no idea what awaited him in Skyhold, but he was going to find out soon.

 

Turned out what awaited him at the gates was a pair of guards in pale green hoods, with light cuirasses marked with the symbol of the Inquisition – eye and sword over the Chantry’s sun.

“… and I swear, I _swear_ I had no idea they were there!” said one of the soldiers, a pale man with shocked eyes who twisted his hands relentlessly.

“Jim, come on, it’s not like you…”

“… interrupted the private moment of Commander Cullen and the Inquisitor? ‘Sister Leliana’s report, it was important, now don’t mind me as I stumble upon my feet and try to throw myself off the battlements to spare myself the shame’!” The man moaned and hid his face in his hands. “What was I thinking?”

“Stop overreacting. Our Commander didn’t send you to Haven to dig for survivors with the only support of a tea spoon, and the Inquisitor surely doesn’t mind. But tell me more: is it true they kissed or…”

Hanzo cleared his throat. He wasn’t even in the courtyard and gossip was already buzzing. He’d been living on his own for too long, and being around people was still weird.

“Hey! You there! Stop and identify yourself!” The man, Jim, was still flustered but was apparently back to his duty, as did his comrade. If the interruption in their chat had annoyed them they didn’t give it away.

“I’m Hanzo, currently from Redcliffe. I…”

He lowered his head and took a moment to stare at the tip of his worn out boots. The sounds of a lively community came from the archway – people speaking and the cries of the marketplace, the snorts and grunts of cattle, a faraway echo of clashing weapons.

Maybe it was a huge mistake, maybe it was the right thing to do, but as long as he stayed there staring at his feet he would never know.

“I’m here to…”

“Hanzo! You came! You really came!”

Hanzo raised his head and saw a familiar figure running toward him. Genji’s hair was the usual spiky mess, but now the symbol of the Inquisition shone on his chest, a brooch on his long, flowing mage robes. His smile was somewhat crooked by the scars slashing his face, and once more Hanzo forced himself not to look away. He had no right to turn his face from the ruin he’d caused.

Still, it was a genuine smile nonetheless. Genji squeezed between the two guards and took Hanzo’s arm.

“He’s with me – he’s my brother! He’s here to join the Inquisition… aren’t you?” His enthusiastic voice dropped as his eyes met Hanzo’s. Hope and fear – and Maker’s breath, affection.

Genji’d really forgiven him. Why couldn’t he do the same? Hanzo sighed and bowed his head.

“I am, if I’m needed”.

“An archer? A scout, maybe? Well, the more the merrier, right, Jim?”, said the second guard, a freckled woman with a long nose. She smiled and patted Jim on the shoulder. “Alright, welcome to Skyhold, Hanzo. You’ll want to speak to Sister Nightingale for this”.

“Sister…” Hanzo was baffled already, and it was not a good sign. For good or bad, Genji was at his side, an arm on his shoulders and that unsufferable smile slapped on his face.

“Yes, the spy master. You have heard of her, I’m sure – the Left Hand of the Divine, veteran of the Blight and so on. I think all her titles would fill half a library”.

“She’s the one who will examinate me?” He tried not to sound worried, but he hadn’t considered the evenence of facing a celebrity.

“You’ll do fine, Hanzo. The bar’s pretty low, and anyway you can’t be picky if you have to save the world”.

He stiffened and pushed Genji away, but his brother was laughing again.

“Take that stick out of your ass and smile some more. We could die tomorrow, you need some humor to survive”.

“Whatever”, he grunted, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment. It was not as cold in the courtyard, where the great walls blocked the sharp winter wind; Hanzo peeked from behind his hair and saw a vast assortment of common people – a bald, dark man pulling by the reins what looked like a giant stag or an extremely overgrown halla, an overtly Orlesian-looking woman with a wide pleated collar and a ridiculous hat behind a market stand – and some rather oustanding individuals. He slowered his pace to turn and look at a huge qunari with an impressive pair of horns and a flock of companions in his trail, and when he looked back to ask Genji who that guy was he found he had fallen behind. Cursing under is breath he caught up and his brother chuckled.

“The Iron Bull, chief of the Bull Chargers – mercenaries, and damn good ones. The Inquisitor likes them, and it’s impossible not to. They know how to have fun”.

“I’m not here to have fun”, he grumnled in respose, and Genji elbowed him.

“Then you’ll like our Commander Cullen. Strict to say the least, but lately I’ve heard some rumors about him not being so rigorous around our lady Inquisitor. Is it true, Caroline?”

“Ask Jim next time you see him. If he doesn’t die of shame in the meantime”.

They had reached the base of a stairway, bending left and leading to a vaste building. Something like a cathedral, or a castle hall. Hanzo couldn’t but look around in awe, and when the light of the day gave way to a warm gloom he blinked.

“This way”, Genji guided him, taking his elbow and pushing him gently. For once Hanzo didn’t pull away, and as his eyes adapted to the dimmer light he whistled between his teeth. The hall was something more than impressive, with its impossibly tall ceiling and the spiked throne at the bottom of the nave. He followed Genji and the guard over a door and up another flight of stairs – was that a library? Hanzo let his mouth fall open at the number of tomes cluttered on the shelves. He was almost sure the blatant young man sitting on a chair by the window, with his shiny boots and perfectly combed hair and mustache, blinked at Genji, but when he turned to his brother he only caught a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Genji?”

“Yes, brother?”

“Is there anything I should know?”

“About what? Oh, you mean Sister Nightingale? Well – she’s scary. And very pretty. She’s the deadliest person in the whole Inquisition and she likes nugs”.

“That’s not what I... wait, nugs? The pink ones, with little hands and small dead eyes?”

“Those nugs, yes”.

“How could someone appreciate something like…”

A shadow took flight from above their heads and Hanzo acted on instinct alone. Before he could even determine what that thing was he had already nocked an arrow and grabbed the bowstring – and then the guard put a hand on his wrist.

“… and she likes her ravens too. A lot. You won’t make a good first impression if you strike down one of her pets”.

Genji’s cheeks were puffed with barely controlled laughter and Hanzo lowered his bow.

“I apologize”, he muttered, but the woman just shrugged.

“Good reflexes, tho. And hadn’t I stopped you, you could have hit that bird, even if it’s quite dark – we could use someone like you. This way”.

Hanzo put bow and arrow down and turned to ask Genji for some more information, but his brother was standing some steps behind him; he was still grinning, but there was a sparkle of tenderness in his eyes.

“I can’t come with you, brother, but you’ll do fine. I trust you”.

“I…”

_I don’t deserve your trust or your smile, or even this second chance. But if this is what destiny has put on my path I’ll face it. And maybe I’ll find the strength to forgive myself._

He couldn’t say one of those words out loud and just nodded once, pressing his lips in a nervous line. He climbed the last steps and emerged in a round, vaste room. As soon as the guard in front of him moved from the stairs, a cacophony of caws and fluttering of wings filled the air.

Ravens. Dozen of ravens in huge cages and perched on the wooden beams.

“Sister Leliana, a volunteer for the Inquisition. You asked us to introduce them to you and…”

“Thank you, my dear”.

Hanzo roused and straightened his back at the smooth voice hushing the noise of the ravens. The guard bowed and stepped back, and he found himself alone with a pale, tall woman with blue eyes that managed to be sweet and deadly cold at the same time. From under her purple hood a shock of red hair stood out against the fair skin.

“You are Hanzo. Genji’s brother, aren’t you? Please, take a seat”.

“How do you…” He grumbled and bowed. “I apologize”, he said again, and did as he was told.

Leliana smiled and clasped her gloved hands in front of her.

“He told me of your past. Genji escaped his Circle before the rebellion even started and you family wanted you to take him back. What a shame, an apostate in the clan? They couldn’t accept it”.

Hanzo closed his fists on his knees and bit the inside of his cheek to avoid a grimace or a brutal reply. Leliana’s smile was as sharp as a blade, her eyes all-knowing.

“You didn’t want to fight him, you didn’t want to kill him – but you couldn’t imagine you’d come across a clash between mages and templars. You got caught in their crossfire and didn’t recognize him, but only reacted to what you perceived as an immediate danger. That’s why you fled your town. That’s why you’re looking for redemption _here_ ”.

Hanzo bore her stare and bared his teeth.

“You said it all. Clearly you don’t need my confirmation”.

“No, and I didn’t ask for it”. She sat on the table at his side, her hands relaxing in her lap. Hanzo’s bitter tone, oddly enough, seemed to have softened something on her face. “You will train with my scouts, Hanzo, and I’m sure you’ll be a precious addition to our Inquisition”.

This, if possible, was even odder. Hanzo frowned, forgetting anger and shame for a moment, and tilted his head.

“Is this all? You… you trust me?”

“Let me tell you a secret, Hanzo”. Leliana leaned closer, her lips inches from Hanzo’s ear. “I trust no one. I don’t need to”. She stood again, and suddenly looked imposing. “I need no trust because I _know_ things, it’s my job. And thus I know you can do good because that’s what you want to do; most of the people you see here have made terrible mistakes and are trying to make amends for it”.

Hanzo bit his lip and followed Leliana with his eyes.

“What if I didn’t prove worthy of the opportunity?”

“You will”.

“How do you know?”

“First: you are an archer, you spent half of your life fighting and you clearly know how to handle yourself”. She gestured him to stand up and she walked to the small altar in a niche, lit by some sweet-scented candles. “But most of all, I have faith”.

Faith. Something Hanzo lacked and envied those who, on the contrary, possessed. For a moment Leliana looked fondly at the statue of Andraste glowing in the niche, then she turned to him.

And this time there was mischief in her blue eyes.

“You won’t be alone. One of my recruits will take care of you: go to the training field and prove your worth”.

 

Such recruit was probably the Maker’s punishment for Hanzo attempted kinslaying.

“Welcome to the Inquisition, partner! Ready to do your part and save Thedas’ pretty ass?”

These had been the first words Jesse McCree boomed to his ear – that, and a powerful slap on his back that had emptied his chest of air.

The first but, sadly, not the last. McCree was many things – a former smuggler that chose the Inquisition over jail - but on top of all he was chatty.

Two days into the Inquisition and Hanzo had discarded the theology theory; now he was seriously wondering if the idea of pairing him up with McCree was some kind of joke. Or maybe Genji’s revenge?

They were both at the shooting range. Half a dozen targets, nothing more than hay balls holding a wooden plank painted in red circles, were standing some sixty feet from his position, all lined by the outer walls.

It was late in the afternoon, and most of Leliana’s scouts were already heading for supper.

All but two.

McCree was perched on the banister behind Hanzo, chewing on an apple and throwing and catching unceasingly a knife in his hand.

“Soooo…”

“No”.

“But I didn’t even…”

“I said no”. Hanzo squinted and tried to concentrate, no easy task with the constant chatter in his ear. The bow was solid in his fist, the arrow ready.

“Genji told me the two of you are patching up some pretty fucked up shit that happened like ten years ago, am I right? Care to tell me what happened?”

“I tried to kill him and left”, he cut it short. And to be honest, it was not a lie.  
Back to the target.

McCree crunched a last bite from his apple and threw the remains away.

“Come on, I just want to know you better! Y’know what they said in – shoot, it was some kind o’ Tevinter book, but I can’t remember which one. Should ask lord Pavus about that… anyway, you know how it is”.

“Sure. I know how _it_ is”.

_Whatever, just shut up._

From the corner of his eye Hanzo saw McCree throw the knife in the air, where it spun high rising in a perfect perpendicular line, yawn and stretch out his long legs, and then grab his weapon again without even looking.

“Yer more likely to fight with all you have got if yer at your buddy’s side. I’m tryin’ to be friendly, see?”

A hiss in the air, and an arrow flew from somewhere above their heads – from the rooftops? Both Hanzo and McCree turned to see a shock of blonde hair and a freckled face split by a mischievous grin.

Sera – that was the elven girl’s name, as Hanzo had been forced to learn on his first day, carried around by an enthusiastic McCree determined to introduce him to everyone – sat with her feet dangling from the roof.

Her arrow stuck from the center of the target in front of them, and McCree whistled in appreciation.

Hanzo took it on a personal level. As McCree’s voice went back to its tales – “… and just last week the Inquisitor attended a ball with the Empress and I swear to the Maker I’d take a whole legion of darkspawn but no Orlesian bullshit for me, no sir” – he raised his arm, aimed and shoot.

His own arrow cut the air and hit the very same spot as Sera’s; the two wooden shafts were wiggling against each other, and not a single hair could have fitted between the arrowheads.

Hanzo snorted a short, satisfied laugh and a gross noise resonated from the rooftops.

“Pffft. Showoff!”, and giggling Sera bolted away, jumping down on the battlements and disappearing in the shadows by the tavern.

Lowering his bow Hanzo realized he was starting to feel tired. His aim was still as good as always, but he was the first one to reach the training field and the last to leave – mostly to avoid as much social interaction as possible – and now he felt the tension in his arm. Mostly, he was on his own.

With the notable exception of McCree.

“Look at you! Yer a hell of an archer, aren’t you? I’m impressed!”

Hanzo peeked at him. Untamed dark hair brushing the base of his neck, an equally unruly beard and hazel eyes that always seemed to be smiling – unbearable. A total nuisance.

“… anyway, you should come and have a drink at the tavern with me. If we’re lucky the Iron Bull is not singing yet and the weird lil’ kid living in the attic won’t try to enter your head”.

“No thank you”, he cut short. He picked up his quiver and turned back to the targets, taking one step toward them.

“Oh but come on! I’m sure your brother will be there too – he fancies the Tevinter mage, y’know? Ah, well, can’t blame him. Although I prefer something a bit wilder”.

_I won’t look at him. If I look at him now I’ll punch him._

“They’re both grown adults”. But most of all, there were things he didn’t want to know.

“Hanzo, stop sulking and come with me tonight. It’s on me, yer the new guy and need to make new friends!”  
Hanzo grabbed one of the arrows and pulled it from the target, turning sharply to McCree and pointing at him.

“Listen, agent McCree, I’m not here to make friends or anything. Keep that in mind”.

McCree balance the knife on his forefinger, the sharp point in a precarious position on his fingertip. He swayed his hand, tongue between his teeth.

“Got it. Still, Sister Nightingale said we’re to work together, so I’m gonna stick around”.

“Work together? I don’t think so”, sneered Hanzo, rolling the arrow between his fingers and sliding it back in the quiver.

“Why not?” The knife was still in position and McCree wiggled to keep it so. Hanzo scrunched his nose and considered the whole picture.

“You are… too loud. And big”, with muscular forearms peeking from the brim of his rolled sleeves and the greenish Inquisition hood stretched on his broad shoulders. Hanzo coughed and shook his head, grabbing the other arrow. “How can you work for Sister Leliana? I’m sure Commander Cullen would put someone like you at much better use, and…”

He didn’t see it coming. One moment he was speaking, his deep voice sharp in his own ears, and then, with a _thwack_!, a long knife was jiggling in the hole left by Sera’s shot.

Hanzo fell silent, mouth agape and eyes wide – that twitch in his lower lid was _not_ shock or surprise, _not at all_ – for a long moment. He slowly turned to McCree, speechless, and saw him drop from the banister. It was a ten feet jump, and McCree landed with a grace unseemly for such a big man.

“Yer not the only one with a pretty good aim, honeybun”. He reached the target, retrieved his knife and put it back at his belt. A grin, a wink and he patted Hanzo on the shoulder, squeezing a bit. “Anyway, I owe you a beer and you owe me a date. Don’t forget that”, and off he went, hands in his pockets and the pace of someone all too sure of himself.

Eventually Hanzo closed his mouth. He roused with a shiver and snatched the arrow from the target, cursing Genji in his mind for his bad ideas, and himself for listening to him.

 

After one more month Hanzo was starting to accept his fate.

He was stuck with McCree, something that made Genji absolutely hilarous and Hanzo miserable as ever.

On the one hand, his relationship with his brother was improving day after day; forced to live in the same quarters they had plenty of time to talk and close the rift between them. On the other, the Inquisition proved to be some serious business.

First he was sent to scout for Red Templars on the Hinterlands, and then there were some suspicious news about red lyrium smugglers on the Stormy Coast – Hanzo was efficient and slowly started to believe he could do something good for the people around him.

But then again, McCree was always with him. If it was easy to stand him on the battlefield – the man was mouthy as usual, but he had an astounding sense of the fight and was always in the right place at tie right time. Curious how these two parameters always matched Hanzo’s position – when they were back at Skyhold his partner insisted to seek for his company.

He mentioned it to Genji once, as they walked on the battlements. Technically it was the end of Hanzo’s guard duty and his comrades were reaching him already to take his place.

Genji had returned from the Western Approach just two days before, and he briefed Hanzo with details about the fortress they’d have to assault there.

“Grey Wardens. Can you imagine it? I can’t believe they’re involved…”

The tip of Genji’s nose was red and peeling after the sunburn, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Hanzo felt a pang of guilt.

“I wish I could have been there with you, brother…” He’d been left behind in Skyhold, part of the garrison allocated in the fortress. No glory or death threats for him. Not this time.

Genji shrugged and poked him in the side, making him wince.

“You were in good company at least, weren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you mean”, he replied. And he was sincere: since his arrival Hanzo, being the reservate (“grouchy”, according to Genji) man he was, hadn’t made many friends. Not that he didn’t like the Inquisition’s troops or its generals, not at all, he just didn’t feel like haning around with them and no one forced him to.

With _one_ exception.

“Oh, here he comes. I’ve got to go, Hanzo – Solas is lecturing some of us mages about I Have No Idea What of the Fade, but he sounds so excited it would be mean not to go, right?”

“Wait, what…”

Genji waved his hand and quickly hopped down the stairs; halfway down the path he had to squeeze himself against the wall to make room for someone coming the opposite direction.

“Good morning, Jesse! Hanzo’s just got off duty, he’s waiting for you!”

“ _I’m not waiting for him_!” he yelled back, clutching his bow and baring his teeth. It was a crisp morning of late winter, and his cheeks burned. Genji was grinning madly and ran away, disappearing from his sight just when McCree jumped the two topmost steps and greeted him with his most charming smile.

“Howdy, partner!” and he looked ecstatic. Bad sign. “Got a moment for me?”

“No”.

“Great! I need your assistance for a lil’ task – it won’t take more than ten minutes and it will be so worth it!” McCree took his arm and pulled him to the stairs.

“Odd. I was sure my brain thought _no_ and my voice said _no_ and now I’m saying it again – _no_ ”.

McCree was having none of that. His voice was bubbling with enthusiasm, his smile so contagious Hanzo sighed and rolled his eyes as he followed him down the courtyard.

“See, I asked ambassador Montilyet – she’s from Antiva, right? And in Antiva they have this… this _things_ …”

“I’m sure they have lots of things in Antiva”. Hanzo was tired from the long shift walking back and forth on the battlements and McCree definitely to excited for his own good. They zigzagged among the crowd, almost running into a couple of kids chasing a dog in the mud and apologizing to a handful of good Skyhold citizens in their way.

“Yeah but they have this… you click it and your opponent’s head goes _boom_!”

“… McCree, what are you talking about?”

The hand on his arm was still in place, and McCree turned to him with a smile that made the sun look dull in comparison.

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout a new kind of weapon! As I was saying, I asked – more like begged – lady Montilyet for the projects, told her it was all for the Inquisition’s glory and she wrote a couple of letters and now…” They were at the entrance of the great hall and McCree stopped abruptly. He let go of Hanzo – who grunted in annoyance – and slipped a hand behind the sash around his waist. He rummaged, his tongue between his teeth, and produced a crumpled piece of paper, folded several times. “Here it is!”, and he waved it in Hanzo’s face. “Now I just need someone with the practical skills to assemble it!”

“I see. And that’s why you brought… _me_?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“No, darlin’, I brought you ‘cause I want you to be involved, we’re partners, aren’t we?”

“I… I suppose we are”, and his ears felt uncomfortably warm. Hanzo was sure everyone around them could see how red his face was, which only made the blush worse.

“Come on, it’ll be great, you’ll see!” and he took his wrist again, greeting half a dozen people on the way to…

“The forge? Wait, you’re going to ask master Harrit, right?”

“Nope”.

Hanzo stopped abruptly and didn’t even try to free himself from McCree’s grip. Quite the opposite – and really, why wasn’t he trying to wrestle him away?

“Tell me you’re not going to do this”.

“She’s a genius!”

“She’s _dangerous_!”

“So are you, but I like you nonetheless!”

“… you what?”

McCree clicked his tongue with a hint of impatience.

“I asked you on a date two days after I met you, _of course_ I like you. But anyway, Dagna will love this project, I wanted you to be part of it”.

Hanzo was fairly sure his head was about to pop from the pressure of blood running to his brain. One could easily have fried an egg on his cheek by now. He blinked several times and stared with a hint of panic all around.

He scraped some common sense from the bottom of his embarrassment and looked at McCree.

“But… half of her creations blow up”.

“And the other half blows the enemies up, it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Please, Hanzo!”

How could he say no? Well, actually there were many ways to preserve his dignity and refuse to play the wingman to an over-exuberant scout with an unhealthy fascination for explosions, but McCree’s puppy eyes were lethal.

Hanzo sighed and nodded.

“Alright, let’s do this. But don’t come to me to complain if she can’t do it”.

“You’re the best!”, and the smile on his face was so delighted it affected even a couple of passers-by.

The vast cave master Harrit used as his forge welcomed them with its stark contrast between cold, damp air and the blaze of the fires. The blacksmith was hunched over an anvil and his rhythmic hammering on a blazing red soon-to-be sword resonated under the high ceiling. The man didn’t even notice them or the booming ‘Good morning’ McCree yelled at him.

The person they were looking at, on the other hand, was precariously perched on a stool, her small arm tensed in the air to reach a too high shelf. McCree literally ran to her and gave her a very polite bow.

“Lady arcanist, greetings”, he said a bit louder than needed. “May I offer you my assistance?”

Dagna looked up at him and her round face brightened, her big eyes glimmering under her ginger fringe.

“Hello Jesse! Oh, well, since you’re here could you pass me the tiny screwdriver there? _Someone_ has this wicked habit of putting my tools out of my reach”, she nearly yelled. Hanzo was sure Harrit’s hammering halted for a second, then resumed faster than before. McCree stood on the tip of his toes and retrieved the screwdriver, handing it to Dagna with a smirk.

“Here you go, darlin’. Any other way I could make your day better?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. That charming bastard…

Dagna jumped off her stool and looked up at the two of them with a knowing grin.

“Let me guess. It’s not sister Leliana sending you, am I right? And what’s that?” She gestured at the project in McCree’s hand with her chin.

“This, my dear Dagna, is the future. Got a moment for us?”

“For _him_ ”, corrected him Hanzo, crossing his arms on his chest. “I’m just here for… support, I think?”

McCree winked at him – and Hanzo would have paid it no attention, but damn, that man’d just said he liked him – and slammed his hand on the nearest working bench.

“An Antivan gun. The project comes straight from Rialto, courtesy of lady Montilyet, and…”

“A _what_?” Dagna grabbed the paper and slid it from under McCree’s paw.

“We’re sorry to have bothered you, lady arcanist, and I’m sure Jesse understands you’re very busy at the moment, so if…”

But Dagna was not listening. Her eyes grew wide and her fingers shook a bit when she looked back at McCree.

“How did she get this? I’ve never seen one before, it’s impossible!”

“See, Jesse? It’s not like you show up at the forge and can have any toy created for you just because…”

“Can you do it?” McCree’s voice trembled with expectation, and Hanzo felt a bit sorry at the thought of his disappointment.

Butclearly he hadn’t considered Dagna’s passion for exotic and dangerous things.

“Well of course I can do it! We just need some… oh, yes, no problem for the black powder, and we have plenty of raw materials! Look at this”, and she pointed at some gears drawn in black ink; it made no sense to Hanzo. “There’s room for a rune. And I wonder what would happen if I added some lyrium to the mixture…”

“You are the most amazing person ever!” McCree closed the gap dividing him from the dwarf girl and lifted her in his arm in a fierce embrace. Dagna laughed as he made her spin in the air, and swayed a bit when he put her back on the ground.

“I know, I know! Oh, this is going to be fun… come on now, leave me to work! I’ll need some time to work this out but it’s going to be so worth it!” and she shooed them away with her hand.

McCree took Hanzo’s arm again and bounced away, forcing the archer to lean back to properly wave goodbye to the two blacksmiths. None of them replied.

Out in the great hall and on the courtyard, and Hanzo finally regained some control. He stopped and took his arm from McCree’s grip.

“Good. Are you happy now? I still don’t see why you brought me along but…”

McCree gave him the same treatment as Dagna: he threw his arms around his waist and squeezed him tight, laughing wildly.

Hanzo felt his ears catch fire, and as Leliana walked past them on the battlements, hiding a smile in her hood as her eyes met them, he was sure he was going to die from spontaneous combustion.

“Thank you, honey!”, and his laughter vibrated against Hanzo’s shoulder. When McCree stepped back his cheeks were pink – the perfect picture of enthusiasm – and he ruffled his hair. “Told you already, I wanted you to be part of this. And your skepticism was vital to move Dagna into action – but to be honest she’d probably have said yes anyway, have you seen her face? This is definitely gonna be fun! Come on, let’s go get breakfast”, and he pushed Hanzo forward with a big hand on his back.

Hanzo stumbled on his feet but followed him nonetheless.

Maker’s balls, he was impossible.

And he liked him.

 

Months rolled by, marked by grim news and more deaths.

Eventually, they were called for another mission, and this time it was Hanzo’s turn to greet his brother by Skyhold’s gates to venture into the unknown.

“Be careful”. Genji was flushed after a run through half of Skyhold; Hanzo, in his Inquisition uniform, cracked a smile.

“I always am. It’ll take us a while to be back but try not to worry too much”. It felt good – it felt like family, and the more time passed, the more the wounds to his soul seemed to be healing. Genji quickly hugged him, then pulled back with his usual shit-eating grin.

“Try not to get yourself killed”.

“Fear not, mate. I’ll bring your lovely brother back in one piece in no time, he’s too pretty to die”. McCree’s voice roared from the crowd of soldiers and scouts assembled on the bridge. Hanzo groaned and looked away, meeting Genji’s sassy smirk.

“Now I’m reassured”, and it was weird, but his voice did sound calmer. He ruffled Hanzo’s hair, eliciting an annoyed sound from his lips. Hanzo quickly tied his hair back in a ponytail and carefully looked everywhere but at his brother or McCree. Still, he could fill his partner’s smile warm him more than the spring’s sun.

Something moved at the front of the column and Genji craned his neck.

“Shit. Time for you to go, I think…”

The Arbor Wilds were weeks from their fortress and the Inquisition was properly prepared for the journey; even so, Hanzo shivered as he watched the Inquisitor, surrounded by her Counselors (apparently the rumors about her and the Commander were true, if the way Cullen seemed to stand a bit too near her and her own smile when their eyes met were to be trusted), jump from her horse for a pep talk.

“Come back home, Hanzo. Otherwise I will never forgive you”. Genji gave him one last smile and walked back into the crowd, disappearing from his sight.

The Inquisitor’s speech got lost in the cheer of the troops, and all at once Hanzo found himself squeezed at McCree’s side. A heavy arm landed on his shoulders, and maybe it was just the tension of the moment, probably it was his fantasy running wild, but Hanzo was almost sure the slap on his shoulder this time felt like a caress.

“Inspirational, isn’t it?” he growled in his ear, and Hanzo didn’t try to pull away.

“I didn’t hear a single word…”

“Well, you don’t need to hear it to feel inspired. That’s some tough shit we’re heading into, y’know? Maybe this time we’ll kick Corypheus’ ass for good”.

Hanzo fiddled with the bucks on his chest and looked at him. Damn, he was smiling – _again_. But this time he looked so sincere and sweet it was impossible to stand his gaze.

“We’re just two random scouts in the backlines. Expect no glory for us, Jesse”.

“I’m not that into glory, honey. If we make it out alive I’ll be happy…” His dark eyes shone with an unlikely sparkle of mischief. “And this time you’ll go out with me”.

Another loud cheer, stomping of boots and weapons slammed against shields, and the Inquisition moved. Hanzo stumbled and stared at McCree.

“You can’t be serious”.

“This time I am! And if everything goes as planned this pretty girl here will be vital in our little project”, he added, patting the blunt shape of his antivan gun, slid behind his belt.

Dagna’d kept her word: less than a month after their meeting she’d appeared at the scouts’ barracks, jumping in excitement and spending a whole evening showing McCree the product of her hard work. Hanzo had to admit it, the gun was a fine weapon, with a polished brass barrel engraved with flowers (“An aesthetic license, Harrit wanted to cooperate and look at how pretty it is!”) and a heavy oaken grip.

McCree’d been quite secretive in his practice, except for Hanzo. The man knew how to use that thing.

“If it doesn’t explode during the journey we’ll be lucky”, he groaned, and McCree shrugged.

“It would be a waste of a nice butt, but it won’t. You’ve seen me use it and it’ll make the difference… and by the way, you’re not answering me”.

Hanzo fell silent for a while, busy keeping the pace set by the front rows.

He knew their survival was not to be taken for granted, but he didn’t really feel like considering the perspective of death in action.

His heart roared in his chest with a mixture of excitement and fear.

McCree was persistent, and with every day they spent together Hanzo felt his interest was genuine.

“So?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and tried to sound annoyed. He suspected his façade was not as believable as he wished.

“ _Fine_. If we survive this mission I’ll go to the tavern with you, but try not to make too much of it”.

“Great! I knew you’d accept!” And without further notice, and completely ignoring the not negligible detail of the hundreds of people surrounding them, McCree bowed and kissed his cheek.

Before Hanzo could do anything but freeze in place – causing some disgruntled noises from the fellow soldiers bumping against him – McCree was gone, swallowed by the army.

Hanzo touched his face where the tickle of McCree’s beard still lingered on his skin and bit his lip.

Suddenly he suspected he had another reason to hope for a positive outcome.

 

In the following weeks Hanzo almost forgot about their projects, mostly because it seemed quite unlikely they’d make it back to Skyhold alive.

Red Templars and Venatori were awaiting them in the Arbor Wilds. And elves, too, different from any Dalish or city elf he’d ever met – definitely more aggressive.

Their task, in theory, was simple: clear the path for the Inquisitor and her companions. There were some enemy camps scattered between their base and the mysterious elven temple they were to explore, and the Inquisitor was the one who had to reach it safe and sound.

They were the expendable ones, and this made the whole plan way more complicated.

Hanzo had no idea how it had happened, but somewhere along the course of the river they were supposed to patrol he found himself cut out from the troops. The good news was that he was not injured.

The bad news? Everything else.

Crouched by a rock, the thick, damp air of the jungle pouring down his lungs with every labored breath, he stood motionless. Sweat was trailing down his back and his hair was sticking to the back of his neck; his uniform was too hot for such a warm climate, but at least his long sleeves and gloves limited the amount of damage carried out by the swarms of bugs buzzing around his face.

At his feet, on the shore, red tents. He knew he could become literally invisible in the shadows if he wanted to, thanks to his years of training as a rogue, but everytime an heavy armored Red Templar passed feet from him he shrunk back, not daring to breathe.

He could take one down, this he knew for certain. Maybe even two before being noticed – he’d inspected their armors and found some weak spots at the junction of pauldrons and cuirass, and behind their knees.

And then what? There were five of them, and he was alone. The weight of the quiver on his shoulders was painfully too light; he didn’t want to move right now, and counting how many arrows he’d left would be of no use right now.

Maybe he could retreat. The Red Templars were at the bottom of a slope, and if they hadn’t noticed him yet there were good chances they wouldn’t either if he slithered away.

Hanzo grimaced at the thought. Fleeing from a challenge? _Him_?

No way.

A branch snapped somewhere behind him. A small, quiet sound he could have missed, hadn’t it been like a wrong note in the symphony of rustling and chirping of the forest. His whole body tensed and he slowly turned his head.

A drop of sweat ran down his temple, and goosebumps covered his arms despite the hot air.

It had to be one of those weird elves, silent as a shadow and ready to strike him down. His hand went behind his shoulders and found the shaft of an arrow.

Without a sound he nocked it in place and turned around.

_Show yourself and look at me, because mine will be the last face you’ll ever see._

His arrow never found its mark. Actually, it never left his bow, because from the bushes emerged a tall shadow.

A smiling one.

Hanzo lowered his bow and closed his eyes, letting his heart calm just slightly as McCree sneaked by his side. McCree crouched beside him, making surprising little noise – but then again, Hanzo had stopped marveling at his abilities months ago.

“Howdy?” he whispered in his ear.

“What in Andraste’s name are you doing here?” he hissed in response. Their voices were covered by the roar of the river.

“Lookin’ for you, sweetie. You scared me to death, I couldn’t find you anywhere”.

“I’m here. Now shut up or…”

“Things are going fine behind us, but we need to clear up the area as soon as possible”. He took the gun from his belt and rested it on his knee. Hanzo looked at him wide-eyed.

“You… came here. All alone. Just for me?”

“Told ya, I like you. Couldn’t stand the idea of you dying on your own out there – that, and also I wouldn’t waste the chance to take you on a date”.

Hanzo could have slapped his forehead, hadn’t he been sure the noise would have attracted their enemies. The warmth spreading in his chest was something else from the sultriness oppressing him.

He quickly went back to business, trying to ignore how relieved he felt at the solid presence of McCree at his side.

“If we strike from the shadows we can have some chance to take them by surprise”.

“Good idea. You take ‘em from here and I go the other way ‘round”. He picked a grass stalk from the ground and used it to gesture to the camp, then slid it between his teeth. “They’ll never know it’s just the two of us”. The light click when he loaded his gun reverberated under the thick canopy and Hanzo tensed.

Some scorn seeped in his tone as he looked down on McCree’s hands, clutched around the weapon.

“I’m not sure that is going to help us sneaking in the camp”.

A silent chuckle, and the smile on McCree’s mouth switched to something more dangerous.

Even more attractive?

Hanzo gulped.

_Let’s stick with dangerous._

“Ah, no worries. It will distract them from your arrows, worst case scenario. You will thank me”, and he blinked.

Hanzo swallowed another snarky retort and focused on their enemies.

“We’ll see”, he muttered. The fletchling whispered between his fingertips as he lifted his bow again, and after a moment his breath slowed down to the usual steady pace of complete concentration. McCree stood up, still hunched forward, and for a second his lips were so close Hanzo’s ear he felt his words caress his skin.

“I’ve got your back”.

And in silence off he went; Hanzo closed his eyes and grasped his skills, determined not to let emotions put their lives at risk.

After a while, the first explosion from the other side of the camp startled him. He looked down just in time to see a Templar in full plate gurgle and fall face first into the river, where he stood still, spreading a pink halo of blood in the water.

Nothing moved or made any sound for a second – hell, McCree had surprised them for real – and then a roar burst from the camp. Hanzo’d counted five enemies, but two more emerged from the tents.

Red Templars, all of them, charging up the slope where McCree was hiding.

No time to lose. His back relaxed and his arms tensed together with his bow; the target was in sight, a flash of red fabric under the raised arm of a templar. Had he blinked he’d have given the man the time to move and wasted his chance.

The arrow flew from his grip with a hiss, and less than a heartbeat later it found living flesh. The Red Templar cried out and lost his grip on the sword, falling on a knee. Hanzo notched another arrow and shot again – neck, this time, and the warrior collapsed with a moan.

Another booming shot, another kill on McCree’s side.

Hanzo fished once more, the arrow light in his grip; a curse rumbled from his mouth as he looked down again and found he’d been spotted. Damn, he’d wasted his opportunity with that double shot, throwing away precious moments and blowing his cover: a Red Templar’s archer turned to him and their eyes met. Red, soulless, dead pupils piercing his soul.

It was the worst time to let fear have the best of him. He ducked and avoided an enemy arrow that zipped by his head, sticking to the tree at his right. No time to aim properly: he took his chance and shot, barely hitting the man on his thigh. Not enough to stop him, and more were coming his way.

No more time for stealth. Hanzo darted forward and took down the man at the bottom of the slope, and McCree emerged from the bushes with a roar and yet another blast.

With a slide and a leap Hanzo landed among the tents; the scream at his side warned him and he turned to his assailant with an unfaltering arrow. Right in the throat, where no armor could protect him.

One down, one more to go, after McCree got rid of his opponent, crushing his face with the grip of his gun.

All was left was a single Red Templar, all clad in metal and with a shield that covered him from ankles to head. And such an impregnable creature was marching straight to him.

It could have been a good shot, one filled with all of Hanzo’s determination and skill. The air seemed to glow blue around his arrow and its head pierced the chestplate right above the heart.

Hanzo let himself sigh in satisfaction when the Templar froze still and dropped his shield and sword.

A very short lived satisfaction. The red bursting from the man’s joints could have been blood, only it wasn’t.

The metal shape shook wildly, spiked gauntlets clawing at the helm, and Hanzo snarled. He shot once more, but the wooden shaft protruding from the armored side had no effect.

“Andraste’s ass”, he growled. He slid his hand behind his shoulder and waved his fingers, and terror made him clench his jaws.

He was out of arrows, and the long knife dangling from his belt felt something less than useless against the abomination that was writhing in front of him. Pale greyish skin broke from the armor and red lyrium spikes shone in weird places – on the massive shoulders, from the templar’s ribcage, on his sides.

His bow was his only weapon now, and he was doomed. He looked around, but found no way out: the wall behind him was to steep to climb and the horror shook one last time, turning his now ridiculously small head with a growl and a creaking of bones.

Hanzo was his enemy. Worse: he was his _prey_.

He bent his knees and snarled – if he was to die, let them know he died fighting.

The creature was twice as tall as him and so big it made his head dizzy. Something trickled from behind the helmet, blood and drool that trailed down the deformed chest.

One long arm, as thick as his whole body, rose and clawed at the air, and Hanzo was ready to jump and roll on his side, hopefully out of reach.

But then the world exploded. Hanzo found himself blind, face and mouth full of a thick, hot substance that covered his eyes, and an explosion making his ears buzz. He staggered backwards and hit the rocky slope, gagging at the foul taste of blood that covered his tongue.

He ran his arm on his eyes, desperate to get his eyesight back, and saw it.

The horror was staring down at a burned hole in his stomach, the arm still lifted in the air. It looked up at Hanzo – surprised, he’d have thought, if only in that creature there’d been somethig human enough to feel anything – and then slowly fell to the ground.

McCree appeared behind the creature, his gun still smoking and his eyes wild with fear. He was as covered in blood as Hanzo, and apparently as shocked. He looked from the dead monster to Hanzo, and his lips quivered with an hysterical laughter.

Hanzo could only stare. Somewhere all around them the chaos of fighting was coming nearer, but right there, in the middle of the enemy camp, there was silence, broken only by his harsh breaths and McCree’s chuckle.

“Well… shit”, mumbled Hanzo. He swayed and fell sitting on the ground, eyes still locked with McCree’s.

“Are you alright?” Hanzo could only nod in response, and something relaxed on McCree’s face. His smile was real now, even if splattered in red.

Thumping of footsteps, a deep voice roaring orders.

“ _For the Inquisition_!”

Hanzo felt his lips tingle and his limbs shake wildly. McCree offered him an hand, as unsteady as his own, and he accepted it, letting him haul him on his feet.

“About the ‘thank you’ part…”

They had no time to discuss the issue further. Behind them the thick, crimson-clad figure of Commander Cullen appeared on the river side, and at his back were his troops.

Hanzo let out a shaky sigh of pure relief and leaned on McCree’, only then realizing they were still holding hands. He tensed and regained some of his composure, standing straight and brushing his hair back.

“Later”, he grunted.

 

It was dark, and not quieter than during the fight. Now, though, the cacophony was filled with cheers and the clinking of tankards as the Inquisition’s troops toasted to yet another successful mission.

Hanzo was sitting by the fire, a warm mug of beer in hand and his head heavy and empty.

Of course he was as happy as his companions to be alive, but he was exhausted. He was mostly unharmed but for some scratches and bruises from his slide, and still his arms and back ached, and his chest fell oppressed by _something_.

He looked up through the flames and saw the green glow of the Anchor sparkle in the shadows as the Inquisitor spoke in an undertone to Leliana. The spymaster nodded and smiled, and the Herald of Andraste or whatever she was shuffled away with a tired smile.

Carrying the weight of the whole world on her shoulders must have been an agony.

Sister Nightingale’s eyes scanned the camp and rested for a second on Hanzo’s face; he was probably imagining it – he was but one of the dozens recruits in that army, and hadn’t spoken to Leliana since their first meeting – but she seemed to wink at him before going back to whatever important business she had with lady Montilyet.

A very familiar, roaring voice burst from the crowd. Hanzo forgot fatigue and fear and held his breath, searching around until…

McCree was by the tents, still dirty from the battle and proudly showing his Antivan gun to a couple of very young, very impressed soldiers. When those dark eyes moved and found his face, Hanzo pressed his lips together.

They nearly died. There was still room for dying a thousand times before the Breach was closed and Corypheus defeated, and the tiny smile on McCree’s lips made Hanzo’s heart dance under his ribs.

Maybe, after all, that obscure line in an even more obscure Tevinter book he still hadn’t found in the library was right. He did fought with every piece of his soul because he had someone he cared for at his side.

Someone he was probably too fond of.

How many more chances could they have before the end? Was it worth it to waste this one?

He chugged down the last of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stood up and marched in heavy steps around the fire.

“… some time to reload but mate, it’s amazing how it… oh, here you are, honeybun!” McCree left the gun in one of the two boys’ hands and turned to him. “Here to thank me? There’s no need, I was joking!” His grin was contagious, but Hanzo had other in mind. He shoved the two soldiers aside, grabbed McCree by the front of his hood and kissed him full on the mouth.

The world, scarred and in danger as it was, stopped spinning for a second and McCree’s eyes opened so wide it was almost a funny sight to behold. Then they closed, and strong arms wrapped around Hanzo’s waist and pulled him in a strong embrace.

The troops cheered and whistled, and honestly, Hanzo didn’t care. McCree’s mouth tasted like blood and alcohol and something sweet, like honey.

It felt good. It felt right in a land were so many things were wrong. He melted in McCree’s kiss and ignored the fierce burning of his face and neck.

The broke from the kiss with a sticky sound, and Hanzo cleared his throat.

McCree’s chuckle was low and heartfelt, his fingers still resting on Hanzo’s sides.

“If that’s your way to show me your gratitude remember me to save your life more often, because…”

Hanzo shut him with another kiss, rough and quick. He needed to speak now, before common sense kicked in or embarrassment overwhelmed him.

“We survived and I keep my word: once we’re back in Skyhold, we’re going on a date”.

“You have no idea how happy you make me, darlin’…” and he bowed to hold him close.

Somewhere in the darkness the Inquisitor and his Counselors were planning their next move.

For now, though, Hanzo didn’t really care. First he had a very important meeting to attend.

 

 

 

 

  

[<3](http://guesswhatruru.tumblr.com/post/160386173156/im-not-sure-that-is-going-to-help-us-sneaking-in)

 

 

 

 

 

 


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